In Firestone where oak meets pine
A woodland that is so divine,
Its pathway crazed and strewn with cone
The ground is dry and hard as stone,
With roots exposed along the track
And bending like a serpent's back,
And twisting as they fall and rise
A tangled web on pathway lies.
The ferns so green along the way
The wildest rose in full display,
Its tiny petals are in flower
A splash of pink beneath the bower,
So cool the soft caressing breeze
As ivy twists around the trees,
The nettles growing in the shade
Now stand like soldiers on parade.
Beside the wood lies Wootton Creek
A haven where the ducks do seek,
For food upon the tidal plain
They walk its length time and again,
A heron fixed in sedge and reed
And waiting for a chance to feed,
On fish that swim as shallows fill
Upon the bank remains so still.
On muddy flats the footprints show
The sunlight shines as waters flow,
And ripples sparkle on the sea
That's moving so majestically,
The tide is growing ever higher
And so it slowly floods the mire,
Relentlessly it carries on
Until the muddy plains have gone.
ANDREW BLAKEMORE
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/firestone-2/
